


Forbidden Colors

by yuuen



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Boar Prince Dimitri, Canon Universe, Choking, Dubious Consent, Felix more like Feelix, Feral and Horny, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Gratuitous Linhardt cameo, M/M, POV Felix Hugo Fraldarius, POV First Person, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), dubcon, fight, kabedon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:55:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22892098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuuen/pseuds/yuuen
Summary: "And if you continue to goad me," Dimitri carries on, voice rasped, low, his quivering words touching my lips, "do not assume our history of friendship will keep you safe, Felix."He's close. Too close. My mouth falls open. I want to scream, protest, insult, cry out. Nothing materializes. The ringing in my ears is loud, but not enough to drown him out. His voice is worn velvet wrapped around a knife edge:"I will not hesitate to end you."
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 8
Kudos: 71





	1. A Lifetime Away From You

**Author's Note:**

> A Dedue-sized thank you to my partner [vulpesoleil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpesoleil) for feeding me dialogue ideas. I got majorly fucking stuck on a lot of this and without her help, it'd be stuck in WIP purgatory.
> 
> Because I'm apparently incapable of writing fic _not_ based on songs, the title and some lines are from (the extremely and intentionally homoerotic) [Forbidden Colours](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qezTmpJpHXI) by Ryuichi Sakamoto and David Sylvian, a favorite song of mine. Sooo sorry to them for taking their evocative, gorgeous song and writing _this_ to it.... 🙁

Dimitri's exposed eye flashes white with every silent strobe. The crash of earth-shaking noise, like my own realization, comes seconds later.

He's a beast.

My hands fumble in the mud for the dagger I lost. My breaths are ragged, each one drawing a fresh bloom of pain across my shattered ribs. My mouth tastes of molten iron. I'm sure I'm a sorry sight: rain-drenched, mud-spattered, broken—and none of it compares to _him_.

His golden hair is matted down and nearly black with blood. In one hand, Areadbhar; in the other, a broken lance, its steel tip buried in one of the corpses on the field. His lightning-illuminated iris is a lone light in the abject chaos of gore painted across his face—a grisly war mask. Even the mist of rain around him is a crimson halo. The red lantern of destruction, our glorious leader.

Disgusting.

I've seen this animal before. And now everyone else finally sees it, too. Vindication is the sweetest victory. The entire battle we've just endured is nothing to this win. The professor can no longer give me that silent, appraising look when I warn him of the creature in our midst. He stands within that red light, his calm demeanor noticeably shaken despite the concerned hand on Dimitri's shoulder. Ingrid, atop her pegasus, has the prime view of the bloodstained prince. She cannot deny me my disgust any longer. Sylvain, too; he never saw this, never understood my abhorrence. He does now.

I see it on his face. It looks much the same as I know mine did all those years ago: pale, wide-eyed... grief-stricken. He knows as well as I that our friend—that sweet child we laughed with, played with, _loved—_ is no longer. In his place, a changeling wereboar playing pretend prince.

Dimitri. Perfect, beautiful Dimitri, a lifetime away from me.


	2. True Colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Tell me, boar: how many of us will you sacrifice in your feral drive for revenge?"

None save the professor have the guts to confront or even speak to Dimitri. They go out of their ways to swerve around him, like river water around a crag. Even those kinder souls—Mercedes, Ashe—stay away.

"He deserves space," Mercedes says. Ashe nods along.

Sure. That's all it is. The sweet concern is in her voice but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. She smiles, of course, while her hands clasp together as if assuring the other that everything is all right. Everything is not all right. Ashe knows it too; he looks even paler than usual, like he'll sick all over himself at any second.

I stand behind the monster. If he knows I am here, he does not acknowledge my presence.

The cathedral has always been an uncomfortable place. The caved-in dome gives me some pleasure; at last, I am not some unworthy fool standing in an edifice that lords over me. No, now this pathetic heap of stone and marble is unfit for my presence.

What a perfect home for the beast. The pews are empty. No one wants to linger too long in the creature's favored venue. The monks and knights gawk at him, mumbling at the rubble, speaking to ghosts, until he turns to face them. There's something utterly ghastly about the sudden silence as he stops muttering, his cyclopean gaze fixed on his unwanted audience. They scatter like roaches in the light.

Only I remain.

Is it strength that brings me here, or mere foolishness? I keep an air of control but inside I'm mixed up, stomach in my throat, heart in my gut.

"What a pitiful sight."

"Go away," the creature growls.

"You've shown your true colors," I persist. "They all know what you are now."

"Good." In that single word, his voice is reminiscent of the steel of my blade scraping against brick; I shiver involuntarily.

"Tell me, boar: how many of us will you sacrifice in your feral drive for revenge?"

"I will not repeat myself," he says. _"Go away."_

Scoffing, I shake my head. "This is what you are. I suppose I just ought to be glad you're not pretending anymore. Let's see how many of them will still follow you into the fires you insist on starting."

He turns fully now. It strikes me suddenly how large he is, even as the two of us are dwarfed by the cathedral walls. It isn't courage that keeps me from flinching back. It's unadulterated terror. My body stays locked in place, limbs leaden and joints seized up. Too late, my hand goes to my hip. If the beast wanted to, I'd already be ripped to pieces.

But he shows restraint. Somehow.

His jaw is rigid. Lips drawn in a long line. Nostrils flared. The restraint will only last so long. If I don't leave now, I'm done for.

Thankfully, feeling floods back into my limbs. I laugh bitterly to hide my nervousness. "Goodbye. _Your Beastliness."_

I haven't called him that in five years. It suits him better now. I do not bow to him. I do not smile. I simply leave him be. A dangerous act, turning my back on a wild animal. But my hand remains on the hilt of my sword until I'm outside the cathedral doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felix, stop poking the pig with a sharp stick. And don't cry when the piggy pokes you back with _his_ sharp stick.


	3. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His eye is a black diamond in this light. It bores straight into the depths of the secret locked inside me. He _knows._ Senses, animal that he is, the ache blossoming like blood from my solar plexus.
> 
> "This is what beasts do, isn't it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoujo kabe-don hours draw nigh. This one is the longest. I think it feels longer than it actually is because I got stuck for close to a week in it. Sorry in advance for the profuse italics. It's a bad habit I'm trying to break.
> 
> Gratuitous Linhardt cameo because I love him... and because you're damn right I recruited him into my Blue Lions game to gay S-support him, so it only felt right.

Darkness falls over Garreg Mach but its inhabitants still linger in the courtyards and corridors. Sleep does not come easily in wartime, a small battle to be won or lost each night.

Even von Hevring is awake. He and the other Adrestian defectors do not go unmonitored; they are met with smiles but they aren't trusted. They know it. I think Linhardt is the only one of the bunch who doesn't care. Why should he? As if anyone wants to watch him study. (Wow. The poor fools assigned to _that_ guard shift.) If he isn't sleeping, he's in the library. I assume it's where he's off to now. He passes me on my way to the dormitories. We exchange a single glance. I guess that's enough mutual acknowledgement for us; I've never disliked him but we're not exactly friends either. At least he shuts up and stays out of my way.

The stairwell is empty tonight. Five years ago, it was a haven for girls of all houses to sob and giggle over boys. They'd burst into laughter when Sylvain came up. Got mysteriously silent when I did. They blushed when Dimitri passed. I doubt they do anymore.

Each step upwards feels heavier than usual. Perhaps I've trained too hard. My legs are just tired. The corridor is dark, punctuated at regular intervals by elongated pools of angled moonlight. I move through them like a spirit, past the vacant rooms that once belonged to our schoolmates. Our enemies.

As I near the end of the corridor, a creak breaks the silence. Lamplight spills forth into the hallway, followed by an inkblot of a shadow. I tense, knowing full well whose room it is. I could ignore him and just dip into my own chamber, but our rooms share a wall.

And anyway, when have I ever backed down from a confrontation with him?

Dimitri steps into the corridor. Takes a breath. Turns his head to find me here. He says nothing but the look on his face is enough to convey what an inconvenience my presence is.

_Good. Suffer._

"Strange look for you, boar," I remark. "Do animals sleep in beds now, playing at being men?"

I reach my door, just feet away from the sinister creature taking up the hallway. I flatten my palm against the wood. Comforting. Should anything happen, all I have to do is push.

Dimitri says nothing, but he doesn't move, either. He's fully turned to look at me, one eye fixed on my every move. Wild beast he may be, but there are cogs turning within that head of his that set my alarm responses firing full-power.

Self-restraint is one of my strengths but not around him. Instead of listening to those alarms, I jab in more.

"Pathetic. We ought to put you permanently out of your misery."

He takes a step at last, then another. He passes me on the left. He's behind me. I wait for him to pass on the right, to continue on down the hallway. But his shadow looms large, unmoving, painted across my door. A cold trickle of terror rakes down my spine.

 _Run. Now. Get away!_ My brain knows what it must do but my body betrays me. I turn my head, sneering at the looming animal. The rest of my body follows suit a second later. Tall as he is, I've got no choice but to turn my eyes upwards.

"You don't scare me, beast," I say. I don't make a habit of lying, but sometimes lies are necessary to save face.

A loud _THUD!_ echoes along the corridor as Dimitri slams his fist into the door frame beside my head. Perhaps it's the shock, but somehow I manage not to flinch... too much. Can't say the same for the windows: each one of them rattles as if the entire building has slipped off its foundation. My eyes slide sideways, taking in the sight of his flexed fist and rigid forearm. An inch closer and my face would be brain matter and shattered bone. Splintered shards of wood flit to the floor.

I pull my eyes once more to his. Easier now that he's leaned in closer to my level.

"Don't I?" he hisses at last. "You're many things, Felix, but _stupid_ isn't one of them. And you would have to be stupid to not fear me."

"Is that so," I respond coolly. What an arrogant bastard. As if I could be _truly_ fearful of that straitlaced square of a prince I once knew, the prince who laughed at puns and worried about breaking academy curfew. I tell myself that earnest boy is nothing to be afraid of, but it doesn't work.

My pulse is too fast. Irregular. My arms and neck prickle with heat the way they do after a hard run. The sweat on my back is cold. Against my efforts, I'm actually afraid of this rampaging boar.

"I've..." He trails off momentarily, taking in a shuddering breath. My own breaths hitch in my throat; my tongue bats out to wet my lips. "I've _done_ things. _Terrible_ things."

 _Tell me something I don't know, that none of us know._ Because everyone knows now what a monster he is.

"And if you continue to goad me," he carries on, voice rasped, low, his quivering words touching my lips, "do not assume our history of friendship will keep you safe, Felix."

The leather of his glove is loud next to my ear as his fist tightens. His face is too close; strands of golden hair tickle my cheek. I feel his warmth across the length of my body and yet I'm chilled to the core. His eye is a black diamond in this light. It bores straight into the depths of the secret locked inside me. He _knows._ Senses, animal that he is, the ache blossoming like blood from my solar plexus.

He raises his other arm and presses his hand against the wood beside my head, effectively trapping me against the door. I hold my breath; in my terror—is that all it is?—I've forgotten how to breathe. My fingers grope for the door handle behind my hip.

He's close. Too close. My mouth falls open. I want to scream, protest, insult, cry out. Nothing materializes. The ringing in my ears is loud, but not enough to drown him out. His voice is worn velvet wrapped around a knife edge:

"I will not hesitate to end you."

My stomach sinks and rises all at once. The sensation is unlike any I've felt before, an unbearable mix of frost-tinged dread and white-hot pleasure. No— _desire_. What does it say about me, turned on and terrified all at once? I must be insane.

I know he's right. I know he's capable. I've seen the inhuman strength in him. The idea that I'm utterly defenseless against him no matter how much of my skill I apply... I shiver so strongly I know it doesn't go unnoticed.

He can, and will, destroy me. The idea of such power thrums sweetly through my veins, all at once gruesome and irresistible.

I get my shit together long enough to shove down on the door lever. The door gives way behind me, swinging violently inwards. Off balance, I fumble backwards, falling onto my ass. The rug doesn't do much to break my fall; my molars throb with the body-rolling shock. Dimitri stumbles forth into the room, just barely avoiding tangling up with my legs. That's the only thing that keeps him upright. Unlucky for me.

I glance to my bed. My sword is where I left it, resting neatly atop the cobalt coverlet.

Dimitri follows my glance.

I take in half a breath.

I move first, a lunge to the bed. Scurry across the rug. He's farther away. I've got this. But I underestimate how impossibly long his stride is; he bounds across my room in a step and a half. My fingers are an inch away from the blade. His leather-clad hand clamps down on the hilt first.

In a lacquered blue flash, the sword flies upwards out of my reach.

I'm reminded of the way Sylvain would taunt me when we were all children. How he'd hold items too high for me to reach, making me jump for them until I became cross. Sylvain was always a beanpole and to top it off, he never knew when to stop. He still doesn't. To think that it was Dimitri who made Sylvain cut it out every time he pulled that nonsense.

This time, Dimitri's the one holding the sword aloft. I'm painfully aware of how impossible retrieving it will be. There's no point trying. I remain crouched by the bed, panting, looking around wildly. I have a second to decide my next course of action. I need to get away. Need to defend myself. Need to go on the attack.

The second passes. My mind is blank with frenetic energy.

Dimitri closes the space between me and the door. He slams it shut, rattling the dormitory windows for the second time tonight. I feel faint suddenly. My spirit evacuates my body.

I'm dead. I'm going to die by my own sword.

Except he throws the sword down. It clatters against the door and onto the floorboards. I can't get to it, but maybe—? I dart towards the desk. The knife in the top drawer!

The boar lunges at me. I'm not quick enough. In my haste, I topple forward. He catches me, fingers closing around my throat. We careen through the room at his lead. Everything's a swirl.

My head rings as I hit the wall. All the wind escapes my lungs in a single, agonizing instant. My boots leave the floor. Not content to let them dangle uselessly like holiday decor, I kick at the rampaging boar. I won't go down so easily.

His body crushes mine. We've sparred countless times, wrestled in the dirt, fought until noses were bloodied. But this is different. I realize, stomach sinking, that he's held back on me all these years. I'm no match for him. Intimidated and intoxicated, I'm only present enough to realize that were it not for the support of his body against mine, I'd be choking and likely even unconscious.

 _"Enough!"_ Dimitri growls.

The vehemence of the command works. I stop kicking and gasp for air instead. Both my hands scrabble at his one, still clamped around my neck.

"Do you _want_ me to hurt you?" he hisses through gritted teeth. Sweat glistens along his hairline. "Don't make me do something both of us will regret."

My mouth moves before my brain does: "Do your worst." I really do have a death wish.

"My worst?" He snorts out a dark, bitter huff—is it a laugh? "You think you could handle the worst of what I want to do to you?"

 _Want._ I fixate on his choice of phrasing. What _does_ he want to do to me? His fingers close in tighter. The strangled sound that struggles free from my throat is embarrassingly weak. I can't keep this up much longer.

As if sensing just that, he lets up. My boots meet the ground once more. Blessed air rushes back into my lungs, burning and fierce and needed. But he doesn't back away. His fingers slide up to my jaw. He tugs my chin up, forcing me to keep looking him in the face. I can't meet his gaze; it's too intense. My eyes focus instead on his mouth.

This is worse.

His lips are parted to make way for his rasped breathing. They're flushed, just like his cheeks, and their shape is... distracting. Far from the stern line his lips usually hold, they're soft, suggestive, _hungry._

I swallow hard. There's no way he doesn't notice me staring at his mouth. I pull my gaze to the side, stare at the wood grain of my desk. His fingers dig into my cheek, however, forcing my eyes forward once more. My hand skims across the edge of the desk; I feel my way along the corner, toward the brass drawer pull. Damn it all, it's too far!

Nevertheless, I persist. If I can just inch the drawer open, the knife is a finger's length away from me.

His free hand slams down onto mine, crushing it against the desk. I roar in pain. "Agh!"

"Enough," he says again. There's finality in that one word: _Give up._

And oh, it's tempting. But it's not me. I struggle in vain against his oppressive presence.

"Boar!" I growl in frustration.

"Yes," he responds. A whisper of a word that worms its way into my core, setting it aflame. At last, he admits it. "A savage beast. You're right, Felix. You've always been right."

His fingers release their grip on my jaw and slip around under my ear, into my hair, against my scalp. The movement is strangely gentle, considering. I almost want to lean into his touch.

And then he grips my ponytail, wrenching my head backwards. I cry out with the screaming sting of it, the roots of my hair on fire at hundreds of points. My eyes squeeze shut but tears escape down my cheeks.

Just as I open my eyes again, my entire vision is a wash of blue, black, and flaxen gold. The beast is upon me. Vibrant pain effloresces through my lips. His mouth is on mine, forceful, quick, and as sharp as a snakebite.

"Mmph—!" Any protests I have are drowned out by his brutal kiss.

My heart drums strong and irregular against my ribs. I can't remember how to breathe. I can't breathe. He smothers me. Just when I think I'll pass out, he pulls his mouth away.

"This is what beasts do, isn't it?" he pants.

All I can do is moan weakly in response. Embarrassing.

My blood runs cold but my flesh is fever-hot. Dizziness threatens to drop me onto the floor, but once again, it's Dimitri's body keeping me upright against the wall. He tugs my hair loose, keeping his fingers entwined so he stays in complete control. He's rough with it, pulling on it until I tilt my head back even farther. I open my mouth to cry out and he takes the opportunity, forcing his tongue inside against mine.

I suppress a shudder, though whether it's from disgust or something else eludes me.

Sylvain would shame me for it, but this is the first time I've ever been kissed. To have my first kiss taken by force is... dizzying. Disrespectful, even. It's not so much a kiss as it is a violation. His tongue invades my mouth. He lets out a groan, deep and ravenous, that weakens my knees.

I dig my fingers into the front of his cloak. It's no use pushing him away. He's a wall. I use the only weapon at my disposal: my teeth.

I bite down on his tongue. He rips his face away from mine with a pained growl. His lip is smudged with fresh blood. He touches a finger to the tip of his tongue; I can almost taste the leather and blood, too.

He smiles.

Cold terror claws up my gut. He's pure evil. He only looks like this before a kill. I summon a surge of strength and fight to get out from between him and the wall. I nearly succeed before he catches me by the hair and waist, slamming me into the corner between wall and desk.

Fuck this. Now I'm mad.

"Is this your worst?" I yell up at him. I lunge forth, slamming my fist straight into his face. He doesn't expect it—my knuckles land satisfyingly onto his cheek. My hand throbs. Worth it.

Until he returns the sentiment, knocking me onto the ground with a single blow. My head rings like the cathedral bells. My eyes roll. The room goes black.


	4. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is what beasts do," Dimitri says in my ear. "They _take._ And predators do not cry for their prey."

It seems like only a second later that I open my eyes, but it can't be. The room is all wrong. It's my room, but not where I left it.

I'm on the floor. The boar is on top of me, heavy and pissed off. He bites the tip of his finger, tugging the glove off in one rough motion that sends his hair back away from his face. His hand, still hot from being covered, is back at my throat. I grip his arm with both my hands, but he doesn't let up, even as I lapse once more into darkness.

I fight to stay conscious. I lose, mostly. I move in and out of shadows, coming to more permanently once he lets go of my neck. His mouth replaces his hand, leaving a trail of pain down my throat. He bites me just below my chin, sucks the flesh until I feel a heated bruise form beneath his lips. Unwelcome pleasure spikes in my gut.

He forces my legs apart. He's too large for me to even attempt to push away. I can barely breathe, barely even squirm beneath him. Most frighteningly, I can feel his arousal pressing insistently against my thigh.

_He's not going to stop,_ I realize.

"This is what beasts do," Dimitri says in my ear. "They _take."_

"Nngh...." I'm too out of it to respond. Words are distant concepts. I'm reduced to a heavy shiver.

"And predators," he goes on, nibbling my earlobe, "do not cry for their prey."

I'm stunned. I asked for his worst. I'm simply reaping what I've sown.

His mouth is back on mine. He tastes of blood. He's more careful this time, his kisses still rough but keeping to my lips. Shame whispers cruel thoughts between my ears: I _like_ the way his hands feel on my body, on my wrists; the way his fingers wrap so easily around my waist, the way they force my trousers down my legs to expose my shame.

It's all too obvious now how hard I am.

Caught in a maelstrom of conflicting emotions, forever tamping them down, hoping they'll go away—it all emerges now. Fear, longing, hatred, rage, love. I'm not as strong as I pretend to be.

I want him. I want him so much I can hardly stand him. My disgust for him is disgust for myself.

I'm a monster, just the same as he—but no, worse: he does not pretend to be anything but a beast.


	5. My Love Wears Forbidden Colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can't...." I can only manage those two words. The rest is lost to a delirious moan.
> 
> "You will." His word is final. His voice, lost to primal rapture, strums across my raw nerves. I hold tight to the beast ravishing—ravaging—me. I can't handle the onslaught.
> 
> But I will, as commanded. I must.

His heavy presence inside me clouds my senses. I struggle to breathe, to think. I stop trying after a bit. Let the pure sensation overwhelm me. His cock plunges deep inside, hollowing me out, filling me up—I hardly know anymore. My thighs squeeze around his hips, hard at work, and my fingers furrow into the rug and into his cloak.

I touch his hair, then pull away. No. Too intimate.

In response, he presses his lips to mine again. I part them. His tongue slides back in, this time without threat of being bitten. No, I return his violent kisses, fighting him for this one spot of dominance. We moan in tandem, breathing in each other's voices; his, ocean-deep, and my own, sounding as if it belongs to someone else. My cheeks flush. Is this really what I sound like...?

His hips rock harder, drawing out more embarrassing noises from my traitorous throat. He's far from gentle and I wouldn't have it any other way.

"H...harder," I rasp out in desperation, riding out the pulsing throbs of pleasure and pain.

He complies, fucking me like the beast he is.

I'm mad with desire. My body is on fire, sweat shining on my face and at the opening of my shirt. He's just as ravenous, taking what he wants from me without any hesitation. This look on his face... it's reminiscent of the face I saw so many years ago, bloodthirsty, unrelenting, hungry for carnage. Only tonight, it's painted with heavy strokes of sensuality: the cherry-red part of his mouth, the indecent tongue behind his dagger-edged teeth, the wild, beautiful darkness in his eye.

I don't hold back my touches anymore. I slide my fingers into his hair. Tug on it to spur him on. His moans melt into something animalistic. A scorching thrill runs beneath my flesh. The louder he gets, the more I lose myself.

My neck is awash in bruises. So like a savage animal to mark its territory, only he uses his fingers, his teeth, his beautiful fucking lips.

The pleasure overrides the pain, sweetly cresting over my body like a storm-born wave. My nails rake against the carpet, into his cloak, against his scalp. My throat is hoarse. I cry out unintelligibly. My legs tense, my back arches, and I come hard.

Only now does the agony assault me. I'm overstimulated, too sensitive to the slow, hard thrusts that threaten to destroy me. His cock feels heavy inside me, dragging out the shuddering remnants of orgasm until I ache.

"I can't...." I can only manage those two words. The rest is lost to a delirious moan.

"You will." His word is final. His voice, lost to primal rapture, strums across my raw nerves. I hold tight to the beast ravishing—ravaging—me. I can't handle the onslaught.

But I will, as commanded. I must.

With a shuddering groan, he seizes up in my arms, pushes in to the hilt. I flinch. A whimper bubbles out of me before I can bite down on it. I feel it acutely as he throbs within my insides, fucked raw; the heat of his seed spilling out of me is... it's sublime. I relax all at once: my limbs drop to the floor, limp and sore, as if I've just gone through an entire training session for the second time tonight.

Years of sparring with the boar and it was never enough. There's a satisfaction from this fight that makes every one of those years worth it. There is no win, no lose—only this chaotic eruption of base, animal emotion, kinetic and ferocious.

For the moment, Dimitri looks his old self. The ghosts have drifted away, leaving only a broken man. His brows knit. His lips tremble and he parts them as if to speak; whatever words there are remain locked in silence.

I close the distance between our lips, reaching up for a kiss. He goes still for a second. He doesn't expect it. The second passes, and he kisses me back.

"Felix," he whispers. Regret colors his face in a way I don't like. He's going to say something to make me feel sorry for him. I shoot him a single, hard look. Not tonight, not ever.

I take his exposed hand in both of mine. This hand that's taken countless lives, and for what? Misguided vengeance? Some attempt at alleviating the agony within? Inside this raging boar is a boy, alone and frightened, haunted and marked by wounds that never heal, ripped open time and time again with every drop of blood he spills.

And for as much as I despise him for it, I know now why: he's my mirror image, shattered and ugly and real.

"We're both beasts after all," I tell him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The wounds on your hands never seem to heal  
>  I thought all I needed was to believe_
> 
> _Learning to cope with feelings aroused in me  
>  My hands in the soil, buried inside of myself  
> My love wears [forbidden colours](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qezTmpJpHXI)  
> My life believes in you once again_
> 
> _I'll go walking in circles  
>  While doubting the very ground beneath me  
> Trying to show unquestioning faith in everything  
> Here am I, a lifetime away from you  
> The blood of Christ, or a change of heart_
> 
> Thank you for reading! 🖤
> 
> And once again, [vulpesoleil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpesoleil) comes in clutch with that last line. What would I do without her? 😫
> 
> Now that this is out of my system, I can get back to more lighthearted, tooth-rotting content. Except knowing me, it'll just be more angsty feels train. All aboard!


End file.
